#even valian trees

[sesamenom]

287 :D

Took me about 45 mins

Bonus internet points will be awarded to anyone who actually tries this exercise before voting.

Assume you need to get the spelling at least somewhat close, and if a character has multiple names, only one counts. Also, if a character doesn't have a canonical name, I'm sorry, but "that guy's wife" doesn't count.

For reference, if you can name the 9 members of the Fellowship, the eponymous Hobbit and his 13 dwarf buddies, 3 prominent women, and the guy who runs the Rivendell B&B, that's 27 characters right there. And you probably also know the name of a dragon.

For further reference, Tolkien Gateway has 637 (!!) pages dedicated to Third Age characters. (Don't click that link until you've voted, of course)

Edit: Your humble pollmaker gave this a try, and got as far as 73 before deciding she was too tired to keep trying to remember dwarf and Silm names. If you also want to share (and don't mind people being incredulous at your having forgot ____), pastebin allows you to paste text and share it for free. :)

[demonscantgothere]

Valian Years vs. Solar Years in regards to Galadriel's Age:

Valian Years get a little tricky in Tolkienverse sometimes because J.R.R. devised some different methods for telling them. Tolkien Gateway points out the differences between the two, and the inherent problems with one of the published versions we have as well:

In the 1930s and 1940s, Tolkien handled a length of the Valian year fluctuated slightly around a round number of 10 solar years. In the notes to The Annals of Aman, Tolkien stated a single Valian year lasts 1,000 Valian days, defined as the duration of a complete flowering of the Two Trees of Valinor. Each of these Valian days is divided into 12 Valian hours, with each Valian hour having a duration equivalent to 7 solar hours. Thus, a single Valian year would last 84,000 solar hours. As a single solar year is approximately 8,766 hours, it was easy to calculate the equivalence of 9.582 solar years for each Valian year. However, in the 1950s, J.R.R. Tolkien decided to use a much larger measurement, 144 solar years for each Valian year, and included this concept in his Appendices to The Lord of the Rings as the duration of yén, or Elvish "great year". If this new duration were applied to the earlier works, they would extend the time line dramatically: the duration of the Flight of the Noldor, which was 5 Valian Years, went from signifying around 50 solar years to being converted in about 700 solar years. So the new definition should be understood as belonging to a new conception that is completely different from the previous one, and therefore not applicable to the dates noted in previous drafts of Tolkien's writings.

source (x)

If we accept the first draft as true with what he wrote in The Annals of Aman, it would make Galadriel approximately 138 Valian years, or 1,322 solar years old, by the end of the Years of the Trees. This is a sensibly young age for an Elf, as she was still considered young at the time, and works well within the Legendarium. Which makes each Valian year approximately 9.582 solar years. So, 1 Valian year = a little under 10 solar years.

Now, if we apply what he published in Appendix D of The Lord of the Rings decades later from what he originally wrote, Galadriel's age changes massively from a mere 1,322 solar years to 19,872 solar years by the end of the Years of the Trees, meaning she goes into the First Age nearly 20,000 years old. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense, so I also consider the later draft from the 1950s (so time-wise, if not publication-wise) to be a new conception from an unreliable narrator that perhaps was devised by someone who wasn't an Elf.

Its conception of time just does not work well with the dates offered in Tolkien's earlier writings. I can't imagine it took the Elves 700 solar years to cross over to Middle-earth (those would be some lazy travel buddies, I can't even fathom it). 50 solar years just makes a lot more sense.

If Galadriel is then 1,322 by the end of the Years of the Trees, then she is 1,912 by the end of the First Age, which was 590 years long. The rings of power were forged in S.A. 1500, so we can then assume through the show that Galadriel is approximately somewhere around 3,412 years old in The Rings of Power. If we keep following that path of time, Galadriel is approximately 8,372 years old by the time the Fellowship reaches Lothlórien in the Third Age.

[liveinfarbe]

Adar and Galadriel reminiscing about their Beleriand days…

These are clips from episode 4 and 7 of season 1. Notice the knife/dagger-parallel.

I've been researching the Silmarillion a little bit, because I think it gives hints about time and place in Adar's flashback account. This got lengthy. I write about the questionable Moriondor assumption by Galadriel and the esteem for flowers, blossoms, willows, glades in the lives of Galadriel and Celeborn, in Beleriand and beyond, and a possible path for hope, forgiveness and growth after trauma, that would lie in a dark Celeborn meets dark Galadriel story: Adar informs Arondir that he's been young in Beleriand once and used to walk down the banks of the Sirion river for miles and miles. He noticed sage blossoms, apparently liked the view, because it left a lasting impression. What I get from this (given the cosmology of that world is actual history and not just mythical) is that it must've happened after the sun and the moon appeared and pulled Middle-Earth out of its darkness, or else there wouldn’t be miles of sage blossoming. It thrives in full sunlight. This puts the account at the end of the First Age, after the Years of the Trees. Interestingly, this is after the "creation" of the Orcs by Morgoth.

Whatever bond and similarity Adar has with the Uruks, he’s apparently not one of those Moriondor that Galadriel talked about to him. I assume the Moriondor concept reflects Tolkien’s idea (he had several) that elves were captured by Morgoth after their awakening in Cuiviénen under the starlight and before Oromë found them and then got corrupted and twisted and thus became the first Uruks. While Adar shares certain physical traits with them, he can’t be one of those first Uruks, because 1.) he lived far in the West, in Beleriand, 2.) the sun had risen, 3.) he’s lived among elves that spoke Sindarin and Quenya, since he speaks it too and not some Avari language, though he could've learned all that in Angband during idle hours, I don't know, he learned black speech too. Anyway, the first mentions of Orcs roaming Beleriand is in Y.T. (Years of the Trees) 1330, but Melkor (at this point in time he's not yet given the name Morgoth by Fëanor) is incarcerated in Valinor. Sauron is in Beleriand though, hiding out in Angband, waiting for Melkor's return, "breeding" Orcs apparently, because their numbers grow and they "roam" Beleriand. This is 200 Valian years before the sun. I'm no loremaster, but I know this is a long time. At this point and later, Adar is still, as he describes himself, young. So Orcs were breathing living creatures before that elf-man became Adar. "Young" I see as meaning before he got captured and tortured and then brainwashed by Sauron as part of the “13 of us” (ep. 2x2).

So something doesn't add up, and Adar implies that in his interaction with Arondir in ep. 1x4. Are the tales of Moriondor a widely spread myth created by Elves, since all accounts about Orcs mostly stem from Elvish chroniclers? Maybe this is what Adar hints at. He says to Arondir

“You have been told many lies. Some run so deep even the rocks and roots believe them. To untangle it all would all but require the creation of a new world.”

He thinks only gods can do that, and he ain’t one…yet. Unlike Morgoth who raised mountains, or other Valar whose wrath sank a whole landmass like Beleriand, and later Númenor. He's just doing what he must, realizing Morgoth's terraforming plan and resettling the Uruks so they can live freely.

The "many lies" that he mentions are reflected in the things that Galadriel - who’s famous as "the scourge of the Orcs", even in Númenor - says to him when she interrogates him in episode 1x6. She’s full of hate and delivers a truly genocidal speech to him that shocks herself in the aftermath. (She acknowledges that somewhat self-critically to Theo in ep. 1x7, and it might be one of the reasons she rejects Sauron's offer later)

The truth about Adar's origin story isn't yet revealed. I think it will be, because the writers put some effort in it, dropped cues and hints in excellent dialogue and made him a multilayered character. Finally, let’s come back to the flowers and blossom mentions in the clips above because they could very nicely tie back to Galadriel and Celeborn in Beleriand and beyond. Adar says he “went down that river once”. Let’s see, if he, for example, came from Doriath and went down the Sirion towards its mouth and saw a lush amount of flowers blossom, he could have come through a region called Nan-Tathren or Tarsarinan that is literally called Valley of the willows. Possibly the home to Galadriel’s “glades of flowers” she danced in.

Why would she dance there and not in Doriath? I don't know, but there's a clear hint that she was in that region and even made meaningful personal connections there. With Ents. And Celeborn, too. Tarsarinan, Valley of the willows, means something to the couple and Treebard, as mentioned in a passage in The Lord of the Rings. The memories of Celeborn, Galadriel and Treebard of that place are intimately entangled.

Then Treebeard said farewell to each of them in turn, and he bowed three times slowly and with great reverence to Celeborn and Galadriel. ‘It is long, long since we met by stock or by stone, A vanimar, vanimálion nostari!’ he said. 'It is sad that we should meet only thus at the ending. For the world is changing: I feel it in the water, I feel it in the earth, and I smell it in the air. I do not think we shall meet again.' And Celeborn said: 'I do not know, Eldest.' But Galadriel said: 'Not in Middle-earth, nor until the lands that lie under the wave are lifted up again. Then in the willow-meads of Tasarinan we may meet in the Spring. Farewell!

“Many Partings” - The Return Of The King - LOTR - J.R.R. Tolkien

Okay… 1.) Treebard's “It is long, long since we met by stock or by stone” sounds a lot like Adar’s words to Arondir "even the rocks and the roots believe them", 2.) A vanimar, vanimálion nostari! is translated as "Oh, beautiful ones, parents of beautiful children"

That last point reminds of Adar's relationship to the Uruks and the rhetoric surrounding it: Adar whose name translates as "father" calls the Uruks "my children", "my sons and daughters", main difference is that they’re not that beautiful, neither is he — but that lies in the eye of the beholder. Does Adar imply the propaganda about Uruks is so pervading that even the eldest Ents believe them? Possibly his old friend Treebard… ?

I mean he's certainly wreaked havoc in the woods, forced the felling of trees, displaying not much respect for the Ents. On the other hand, Adar is shown planting Alfirin seeds, that grow into flowers. He's still very Elvish, full of respect and longing for "new life, in defiance of death".

Finally… Lothlórien, Galadriel and Celeborn's later safe space, is literally meaning "Lórien of the Blossom". Treebard calls it "Dreamflower".

With all that cherishing of flowers - I think even his chain mail shirt displays flowery ornaments - could Adar be Celeborn in a rather depressing and long-lasting dark phase of his life in ROP? Explaining where he’s been all that time since she last mocked him as a “silver clam”? And if he is not, wouldn’t that be a really good story if he was? Adar doing the work could be an arc about hope and the possibility of healing and changing — it’s what Galadriel needs, too, in the long run.

At this point she’s confused and hurting after the betrayal by Sauron, because she liked him more than anyone in ages, but also because she had to witness herself being unreliable and, frankly, unwise. Yes, she’s vindicated for having always been right about Sauron, but the way she went about it fills her with shame, it’s gnawing at her, not primarily because of wounded pride, I believe, but out of compassion for the victims of her actions. Not unlike Míriel after her return to Númenor. It begs the question to them both if it was all needless, if there really is a greater good in what's unfolding now? At this point in the narrative, the Númenorian intervention that Galadriel pressed for must feel like a Pyrrhic victory with grave consequences and implications for the future of Middle-Earth as well as Númenor. It has caused immense trouble and pain already to many other people that Galadriel gave Sauron a clap on the back and an army. She still has to fully confront herself about that, she's still vulnerable to the darkness inside her, because she's hurting. She has Elrond to help and guard her, but other than that, who's there for her? I mean, in the end she has to accept that it's not her who can slay Sauron, she needs to come to that understanding. It's a battle within herself she hasn't yet had the courage to take up because she still can't face her lingering grief at this point in any other way than turning it into anger.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

This is a little something that came to life after some fun discussions on Discord. A big thank you to @cilil for helping me figure out the title, and details of how the chase that came after the feast could go. The first post featuring elements of the Feast of Horns will appear in tomorrow's Pre-Defection! Gothmog (Calinár) /Eönwë fic.

Warnings: mentions of drinking and sexual activity (very subtle)

Minors DNI | 18+ | You are responsible for the media you consume

Original image by Livin4wheel/Unsplash

🍃 This festival began after the first forests came to life on Almaren, and the Valar feasted to celebrate this new chapter in the making of Arda.

🍃 The feast ended in a great race through the woods, where some of the Ainur ran beneath the branches of mighty trees and encouraged the others that followed to catch them. It turned out to be a good way for them to enjoy themselves and free themselves of any inhibitions they may have had.

🍃 As the theme of the festivities involved both the hunter and the hunted, Oromë and his consort, Vána, took on the roles of Master and Mistress of Ceremonies, respectively.

🍃 When caught, the captured then granted their captor whatever they desired, including rewarding them with acts of physical pleasure. The Ainur believed in giving physical affection freely to whomever they wished, as it was only the act of spirits cleaving to each other that mattered when it came to marriage and fidelity among their kind.

🍃 Because the Ainur enjoyed that first race so much, Manwë issued a decree allowing it to become a festival that fell on the first day of every tenth Valian year. The only rule was that no one was to be forced into doing something they did not want to do.

🍃 The feast would begin with a sumptuous banquet within the halls Oromë and Vána call home. All present would dine on roasted meat, foul and fish, and cheese and bread and honey and fruits that grew wild outside the halls. There would be flagons of water and mead and ale and beer and even fine wine for anyone who wanted it. Then, after everyone had their fill, guests, more often than not, would indulge in singing bawdy songs before everyone had to go outside for the chase.

🍃 Oromë would make his way onto a dais made for the occasion and ask the hunters and the hunted if they were ready to begin. After they answered, he would invite Vána to bring him the Valaróma, which she does so on a velvet cushion. When he blew the horn for the first time, the hunted raced into the forest. After the second time, the hunters ran after them.

🍃 To separate the hunter from the hunted, a symbol that established the identity of each was. Hunters wore horns on their brow and amidst their hair, and the hunted wore chains and collars adorned with actual animal horns or horns wrought of gold and iron and other metals. For the Ainur, it was an easy thing to produce horns that adorned their physical forms, and the hunted kept Aulë occupied with their requests for necklaces and collars. In time, these horns, necklaces, and collars became quite elaborate.

🍃 Any Ainur, sprite, fay, or other spirit capable of flight could not fly during the chase. Just like the others, they had to run as well.

🍃 Both the hunter and, once caught, their captive, were allowed to invite others to join them if they wished.

🍃 While some pairs and groups indulged themselves in whatever way they liked within the forests, others returned to the halls and made their way to chambers set aside for them to use with their partner(s).

🍃 Once in a while, Manwë and Varda would also take part.

🍃 Eönwë and Gothmog (Calinár, as he was known before he swore himself to Melkor) first paired off during one such chase.

🍃 Very few beings know that Melkor first came across Mairon during one of the earlier chases.

🍃 Those who took on the role of the hunted would sometimes try to hunt those who chased them, and a contest of wills and skills would ensue.

🍃 After the destruction of the two lamps and Almaren itself, the feast and the chase that followed it continued after the Ainur migrated to Valinor.

🍃 In Valinor, the festivities always took place within the halls and forests of Oromë.

🍃 As the chase occurred within the lands he ruled over, Oromë and Vána once again returned to their roles of Master and Mistress of Ceremonies, respectively.

🍃 After the elves who undertook the great journey settled into life in Valinor, they were invited as well. Elves who served Oromë and Vána took part without fail. Those who served the other Ainur took part whenever possible as well.

🍃 After the first kinslaying, the Feast of Horns ceased for a while as elves and Ainur alike grieved the murder of a king, the destruction of the two trees, and the loss of life in Alqualondë. Festivities only resumed after the appropriate time for grieving had passed, and the elves themselves requested it to have some sense of normalcy return to their lives.

🍃 Those who only ever lived in Middle Earth and heard tales of the feast and what came after were shocked to witness it with their own eyes. Nevertheless, these elves soon grew comfortable with the notion of such a feast and took part also. 

tags: @asianbutnotjapanese

[whump-in-the-closet]

14. Collars in the Shape of Hands

previous.

cw: burning, failed escape, inhuman whumpers

Your vision blurs, choked with the sight of Valian’s blood and flashing steel. You can’t watch this. You– 

You panic. And the world panics with you, slipping away and blurring into vague, indistinct shapes. You run, heart ripping apart your throat– you don’t think an internal organ is supposed to be there, but you brush it aside– you have to run. 

You have to get out of here. 

The ring of trees that’s a fuzzy line of green means freedom. Safety. You draw close, panic turning to exhilaration. You’re going to make it. You’re going to be safe. The thought settles comfortably inside you, all dull edges and warm fall colours. 

You never make it. 

You never had a chance. 

Keres materialises directly in front of you, coming up from the grass with the finality of a mountain. 

Fall colours fade to winter and despair. 

Grinding to a stop, you try to backpedal– you still have a chance to reach the woods. To escape this nightmare of a clearing– 

Keres tilts her head and gives you a paper-thin smile. A smile that says, “Hey, congratulations, you messed this up splendidly. Good for you for being so bold and so utterly stupid.” Really, who needs words when they can smile like that? 

Someone grabs your shoulders from behind, grip tightening with an impossible strength. No human should be able to make your bones feel like they’re about to turn into powder. 

Solis drags you back to the middle of the clearing. In a final fit of resistance, you dig your heels into the ground, leaving scratch marks in the grass. 

Solis drops you. Pieces of green grass twist between your fingers and wrap around your wrist. 

Voices echo like they're coming from the end of a very long tunnel. “You shall regret that.” 

“Helect, you should not have tried to run.” Mocking. “But, alas, that is your loss.” 

It’s Solis who hauls you back to your feet. There are flecks of Valian's blood on her face. She doesn’t let go of your collar, but twists it to the point of choking. 

Leaning in close, she whispers, “Have you ever been in so much pain, death seems like a mercy?” 

The lightning in her eyes seems like an entire flashing storm. The air contracts with suppressed energy. 

She slips into an old way of speaking. A hymn. A threat. “Prepare thyself.”

“For– for what?” 

Solis raises two of her four hands and the light catches on the dead skin. Then you realise it's not sunlight on her skin, but white flames. Her hands are on fire. 

And she smiles. “For this.” 

Terror spikes through you, filling every nerve in your body with a silent scream. You try to wrench away, fighting with the strength of a trapped animal. 

Keres grabs your wrists in a vice-like grip. With another hand, she grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back. 

You stare at the sky through the tree branches and wonder if it's the last time you’ll see the sun. 

Flashing red wings. 

Cicadas buzzing.

The green of the forest. 

Don’t think about the burning--

The sound of sizzling hits you first, then the pain. 

Solis’s hands are around your throat, forming a collar of fire. 

The sunlight beats down on you as you scream. Back arched, clawing for even the slightest relief. 

The first scream is choked, strangled and half-swallowed. It rips at your throat, crawling out of your mouth and falling dead beside you. 

Just like your dignity. 

You never had a high pain tolerance. 

“Oh, be quiet,” snaps Solis, withdrawing her hands. But the burns remain. A mark that won’t heal and is unable to be hidden. 

Burns in the shape of a collar. 

Keres lets go of your wrists and you sink to the ground. Your vision blurs– worse than before. 

Unconsciousness is a mercy you would beg for. 

You slip further into the grass. 

Bare feet appear in the corner of your vision and Valian crouches next to you. Their bottom lip is shredded, blood dried to their face. They're really not much better off than you are.

There’s concern in your eyes, but it’s darkened by fear. “You should stand up for this next part,” they whisper. “Do you need help standing?” 

Nausea rises up with an unbidden horror. The agents aren’t finished?

taglist: @kira-the-whump-enthusiast, @d-cs, @annablogsposts, @sorrowful-hyacinth, @whumpsday, @whumpinthepot, @whumpycries (lmk if you want to be added/removed!)

[tar-maitime]

like my mirror years ago pt. 2

Rating: T Characters: Maedhros | Maitimo, Fingon | Findekano Additional: Years of the Trees, time travel, AU, fix-it WC: 1.1k

Read part 1 here

He’s so young. Arda Marred, he’s so young.

Maedhros doesn’t know what she was expecting. No, that’s a lie, she does, it’s just that it was ridiculous. Somehow, even when faced with the young, unscarred, innocent Maitimë, she’d kept on picturing the Findekano they were going to see as more or less like her Fingon the last time she’d seen him. And then, of course, he wasn’t.

It’s not as though he aged, exactly, between now and the brutal end of his life, not in the way Men would think of it. In some ways, he looks painfully the same, so much so that Maedhros’ first instinct was to run into his arms and be held. But the tips of his ears have never been blunted by frostbite, and there are no tiny, pale scars on his hands from scrambling up the cliffs around Thangorodrim. The only calluses on his hands are from harp practice, rather than sword work, and he has never been wounded in battle, nor singed by Glaurung, nor worn stress lines between his eyes from the weight of ruling. He has never known grief. He has not had to spend months by a lakeside relearning his wife after years of separation and torment.

Powers, he and Maitimë aren’t even married yet, are they? Not for a few decades yet.

It’s too much. Maedhros stands frozen, staring at him, for far too long, and then turns and flees.

She can’t go very far, not if she doesn’t want to be discovered by Tirion at large, but she gets as far as the courtyard, retreating into a corner and dropping to sit curled up against the wall, her arms locked around her bent legs and her forehead pressing uncomfortably against her knees, despite the armor. She hasn’t panicked like this since she doesn’t know when - she’s always had to be calm and in control. But Tirion is safe. The only monster here is her.

Perhaps the worst of it is that this is how Fingon should be. He should never have had to go through all of that, should have been able to stay this bright-eyed, unmarred stranger for all time - even if that meant never following her to Beleriand, even if she had to exist in eternal torment because of it, even if she never got to marry him at all...

Warm, dark-brown hands settle over her one hand and the stump of her wrist, the touch familiar and yet wrong. Findekano is touching her lightly, cautiously, as if uncertain he will be welcome. Fingon never had to wonder, the bond between their souls telling him all he needed to know to figure it out.

“Maedhros?” he says, stumbling over it a little. She lifts her head. “Maitimë said that’s what you went by - are you all right? Did I do something?”

She almost laughs at that, a bitter, choked thing. “No! No, you have done nothing. It was me - I broke you, and it has not happened yet, but it will, and I can do nothing to stop it.”

He frowns a little at that. “Did you? Or are you simply taking far more of the blame than you ought to? If I had ever thought about it, I should have hoped that in sixty Valian years you would no longer have such a tendency.”

Maedhros can’t decide whether to laugh or weep at such a pronouncement. “You followed me into an unwinnable war against Melkor,” she says, “and it took your father and most of our cousins before it finally killed you, horribly, because I could not reach you in time. So yes, I would say that that is in fact my fault.”

Findekano squeezes her hand gently. “Russandol,” he murmurs, “do you really think anything could have stopped me?”

She had not thought about it that way before. Now that she is, she finds that she cannot say with confidence that anything would have.

He looks at her intently, then blinks. “Russë, your eyes - were we married?” he ventures. 

Maedhros can only nod.

“When?”

“Around 1493 by your reckoning,” she says hoarsely. “Before the war began.”

“Well, then, the future cannot have all been terrible.” While Maedhros is still processing this declaration, Findekano looks her over. “Even so, I think there are things I would like to change, if it hurt you this much.”

“We can’t,” Maedhros says automatically. “I still remember it all - so we can’t.”

“Perhaps it is just that we haven’t yet,” Findekano counters. “Now, do you think you could stand to tell Maitimë and me more about what exactly went wrong? Then we can come up with a plan.”

* * *

Reluctantly, she tells them everything, from her father’s unveiling of the Silmarils and Morgoth’s rumor-mongering, to the banishment, to the destruction of the Trees, to Alqualondë and the Helcaraxë and everything that followed after in Beleriand.

She can’t quite manage to leave out the few good things - the marriage, her and Fingon adopting Gil-galad, the wounds that his father dealt to Morgoth, the little peredhil twins that she and Maglor had been raising. But neither does she shy away from the many terrible details, either - Angband she mostly skips past, but not the battles, or the kinslayings, or the agony of Fingon’s death.

They are all three silent for a long while after she’s finished.

“Well,” Findekano says at last, “it does at least seem that there is a fairly simple solution to all of this - we need only stop Fëanaro from making these Silmarils.”

Maedhros shakes her head. “He will have already begun them, at this point,” she says. “Do you really think he will stop, even if we explain?”

Maitimë purses her lips. “No. He’d just scoff and tell us to find a different way.” Then, “What about Melkor? If we were to expose him earlier, before he could stir up so much unrest, then perhaps the Valar could catch him unawares and deal with him properly. It would be safe for people to go to Beleriand, then.”

“And we must do that, eventually,” Findekano adds. “For Itarillë’s sake, if nothing else, so that she may meet this Man you have spoken of - and so that her son and grandsons may not be erased. And for the sake of Irissë’s son, I suppose, although I do not like the sound of this Eol and we will have to do something about him...”

Maedhros listens, feeling a little distant from it all. They cannot change the future that is to come; she is still certain of that. But the painful, inevitable failure has yet to come, and just now she makes herself be content to watch them. They are whole and still hopeful and they care enough to at least try to fix the mess of her life. That can be enough for this moment, until it all finally comes crashing down.

To be continued...

[apihtawtoussaint]

The History of Arda (Very serious)

Part 2 (nisô)

So, where we left off, a bunch of the Ainur went off with their sheet music and blueprints to create Arda.

Being whispy divine things, they didn't inherently have physical forms. But they'd make some for the looks, for the drama. They would also vibe out a gender, and I've decided to interpret that far more progressively than I imagine Tolkien meant it.

Now we have to take a second to do the Deuteronomy thing and list everyone.

Of the Ainur, the big guys were called the Valar and the teeny ones were the Maiar. The 8 government workers of the Valar were called the Aratar. They were the Named Characters. Also, angels, spirits, Abrahamic theology, whatever. If it looks like a pantheon and sounds like a pantheon, it might just be a pantheon.

The Aratar were: Manwë, Varda, Ulmo, Yavanna, Aulë, Mandos, Nienna, and Oromë. But there were a few others that were also important enough for names.

Manwë Sulimo was the Zeus guy, sky god. The Eagles were his servants; they may or may not have been Maiar depending on when you asked Tolkien. Eru Ilùvatar just gave him the job of main bitch. Melkor was his brother, but they weren't close. He was married to Varda. Because sky. That'll make sense soon.

Aulë, man, he was the best of them, he had a hand in the worst of them.

Pros: created the Dwarves!!

God of earth and smithing and such.

Has an odd amount of influence over beards.

Cons: Both Sauron and Saruman started as his Maiar.

He was the patron of the Noldor Elves. Which sort of led to Feänor creating the silmarils.

He married Yavanna, because dirt.

Ulmo was unbothered by the nonsense the others had going on. In his lane, moisturized. He was god of water, oceans, rains, puddles, etc. He likes to just chill in the ocean, mostly. He doesn't even put on a physical form mostly. Comfy guy.

Elven sea longing does come from the sound of his horn, though. So just, like, let him be.

Oromë was the Athena coded one. Big hunter man, super into horses. He had this sick ass horse called Nahar, who was Shadowfax's grandpapa.

Nessa was his sister, and Vána his wife. I don't have a good quip about that; it's just true.

Mandos, which is actually his nickname his government name is Námo, was god of the dead and the doomsman. Not so much in that he doomed men, but he just had prophecies (fate=doom) and was ride or die for his aesthetic.

Technically, Mandos is the name of his halls, where the dead people live.

He is in a fun little goth sibling trifecta with Lórien and Nienna, and married to Vairë. Because fiber arts.

Lórien, similar to his brother was name of his lands but people called him that. But his legal name was Irmo, so I understand not going with that. Dream! He's the dream guy. His gardens double as a wellness retreat and longterm care center that he runs with his wife, Estë.

Tulkas, late to the party, was not among the OGs. He didn't show up until 1,500 Valian years (~14,373 solar years) after the creation of Arda. He heard that there was some fighting going down and he just had to get in on that shit. And then he married Nessa.

Varda Elentári, the most revered by the Elves. She's into stars, and more broadly light and light sources. She would have made an excellent lighting designer for theatre.

What's she done? Well, only all the stars, the Lamps, and the Sun and Moon! (Not in that order) She was super hot and had mad beef with Melkor even before they started the whole universe creation project.

Yavanna Kementári, the queen of the earth! Gardener, botanist, plants rights activist. She also led to the creation of the Ents when she complained to Eru Ilùvatar that all the other sentient things liked to chop down trees. And if Aulë gets his fucking Dwarves, she should get at least something.

She also did the Two Trees, of course.

Nienna, grief, despair, crying all the time. She also does therapy work at her brother's halls for the dead elves waiting to get reimbodied. Very important work, a lot of them were killed in not fun ways. Or too fun ways.

Estë, the lady of rest, potentially nocturnal as she apparently spent most days napping in her husband's gardens. But when she's up, she's a doctor, she's a psychiatrist, she was really the main source of healthcare in Aman.

Vairë, the weaver, fiber artist extraordinaire. She liked to make these cool tapestries of pretty much everything that ever had happened. Which is a lot of things. She would decorate the Halls of Mandos with them, so I imagine they were very cozy.

Vána! Vána was sure there... look, in earlier drafts she was way more important but that didn't survive until publishing. So, she liked flowers and was youthful. That's Vána.

Nessa, damn, it's even worse that Vána. What do we know about Nessa? She could run fast and was a good dancer. I like to imagine that she and Vána had lots of intense adventures we just don't know about.

Of course, Melkor also travelled with the squad to Arda but he was very unhelpful. In the early days be would be like a big volcano mountain guy and destroy everything the others tried to build. And he'd seduce their Maiar away and make them into Balrogs!

Early Arda was a series of wars between him and the other Valar until Tulkas came down to throw hands, to make some shapes.

Here's a summary:

And those are the Valar! Yay!

Next, we go into a few Maiar, and getting into the Spring of Arda. Get ready for some big ass lamps!!

Part 1

[erendur]

Here are the relevant passages of Nature of Middle Earth when it comes to Elves and Men ; I have no idea how it fits with the rest of Tolkien's writing on the subject, but here they are !

From the chapter "Concerning the Quendi" (the context is that in this chapter and the two following ones I'm going to quote from, Tolkien is thinking about rates of growth for Elves, and population growth)

"The Quendi never "fell" as a race - not in the sense in which they and Men themselves believed that the Second Children had "fallen". Being "tainted" with the Marring (which affected all the "flesh of Arda" from which their hröar were derived and were nourished), and having also come under the Shadow of Melkor before their Finding and rescue, they could individually do wrong. But they never (not even the wrong-doers) rejected Eru, nor worshipped either Melkor or Sauron as a god - neither individually or as a whole people. Their lives, therefore, came under no general curse or diminishment ; and their primeval and natural life-span, as a race, by "doom" co-extensive with the remainder of the Life of Arda, remained unchanged in all their varieties.

Of course the Quendi could be terrorised and daunted. In the remote past before the Finding, or in the Dark Years of the Avari after the departure of the Eldar, or in the histories of the Silmarillion, they could be deceived ; and they could be captured and tormented and enslaved. Then under force and fear they might do the will of Melkor or Sauron, and even commit grave wrongs. But they did so as slaves who nonetheless in heart knew and never rejected the truth. (There is no record of any Elf ever doing more than carrying out Melkor's orders, under fear or compulsion. None ever called him Master, or Lord, or did any evil act uncommanded to obtain his favour.) Thus, though the carrying out of evil commands, quite apart from the sufferings of slavery and torment, clearly exhausted the "youth" and life-vigour of those unfortunate Elves who came under the power of the Shadow, this evil and diminishment was not heritable."

NOTE : the fact that Elves and Men BELIEVE Men are fallen. This is the point of view of Elves, and the idea comes from Men (it comes from the Athrabeth). But maybe they aren't ? What if their shortened lifespan was a consequence of living in Arda marred, but interpreted as the effect of a Fall that is impossible in the designs of Eru, but introduced as a concept by the lies of Morgoth ?

The next paragraph is less relevant but since I was typing it anyway I'm including it because I find it cute :

"The lives of the Quendi, also, cannot be supposed to have been affected by living "under the Sun", in Middle-earth. As is now known and recognised in the Histories, the Sun was part of the original structure of Arda, and not devised only after the Death of the Trees. The Quendi were, therefore, designed in nature to dwell in Middle-earth "under the Sun".

From the chapter "The Awakening of the Quendi" :

"But Melkor had, of course, since he largely controlled Middle-earth, and had hosts of spies and servants, soon discovered the Quendi, and he had time to frighten them, fill their minds with dark imaginings and fears, beside (probably) capturing some of them, and even corrupting or seducing some -hence the taint in some degree of "the Shadow" which lay even upon the Eldar".

Note : Edennil, I think that answers your question as to how even non-Noldor can behave in a "fallen" way ?

From the chapter "Natural Youth and Growth of the Quendi" :

"When the Quendi were very "young in Arda" (approximately their first six generations in the first 96 Valian years of their existence) they were far more like Men (unfallen). Their hröar were in great vigour, and dominant ; and the delights of body of all kinds were their chief concern. Their fëar were only beginning to wake fully and to grow and discover their powers and interests."

NOTE : bear with me, this is relevant for the next extract ! In Men, even unfallen, hröar is dominant over fëar, unlike in "mature" Quendi.

And finally from the chapter "Notes on Órë", which is a linguistics note (hold on, it's a long and confused one because it's several notes put together ):

"Quenya órë is glossed in LOTR 'heart (inner mind)'. But although it is used frequently in LOTR in the phrase "my heart tells me", (...) 'heart' is not suitable, except in brevity, since órë does not correspond in sense to any of the English confused uses of "heart" : memory, reflection ; courage, good spirits ; emotion, feelings, tender, kind or generous impulses (uncontrolled by, or opposed to the judgements of reason).

What the órë was for Elvish thought and speech and the nature of its counsels (...) requires for its understanding a brief account of Eldarin thoughts on the matter. For this purpose the question whether this thought has any validity as judged by human philosophy or psychology, present or past, is of no importance ; nor do we need to consider whether Elvish minds differed in their faculties and their relation with their bodies.

The Elves thought there was no fundamental difference in the given faculties ; but that for reasons of the separate history of Elves and Men they were differently used. Above all the difference of their bodies, which were nonetheless of the same structure, had a marked effect : the human body was (or had become) more easily injured or destroyed, and was in any case doomed to decay by age and to die, with or without will to do so, after a brief time. This imported into human thought and feeling "haste" : all desires of the mind and the body were far more imperious in Men than in Elves : peace, patience, and even full enjoyment of present good were greatly lessened in Men. (...) Men, they said, certainly possessed (or had possessed) órë ; but owing to the "haste" spoken of above they paid little attention to it. And there was another reason more dark (connected the Elves thought with human "death") : the órë of Men was open to evil counsel, and was not safe to trust."

Here there is a bottom page note by Tolkien :

"The Eldar surmised that some disaster had befallen Men before they became acquainted with them, sufficient to damage or alter the conditions under which they lived, especially with regard to their "death" and their attitude towards it. But of this Men, even the Atani with whom they became closely associated, would never speak clearly. "There is a shadow behind us", they would say, but would not explain what that meant." (ie I, Tolkien, don't know how to explain what I mean ?)

Another note follows :

"órë (...) is also used more vaguely of things arising in the mind or entering the mind which the Eldar regarded as sometimes the result of deep reflection (often proceeding in sleep) and sometimes of actual messages or influences on the mind - from other minds, including the greater mind of the Valar and so indirectly from Eru. (So at this period it was supposed Eru even "spoke" directly to his Children.)

I'm putting an excerpt from another note to finish with :

"The life of the Númenóreans before their fall (the 2nd fall of Man ?) was thus not so much a special gift as a restoration of what would have been the common inheritance Men, to live for 200-300 years. (...). The "disaster" the Elves thus suspected was some rebellion against Eru taking the form of accepting Melkor as God. One consequence of this was that the fëa was (?impaired) and Melkor had claim upon those who had rebelled against him and sought the protection of Eru."

The rest of the note was apparently hard to decipher and summed up by the editor as follows :

"Through their acceptance of him as God, Melkor gained access to the órë of Men, so that only the wisest of Men could distinguish between the uncorrupted counsel of the órë and the evil promptings of Melkor. "The órë of Men was open to evil counsel, and was not safe to trust".

So that's it :)

I'd just like to add that a major difference I find between the Fall in, let's say, Catholic doctrine, and the Fall in Tolkien's world, is that the Fall seems to exclusively consequences in Arda ;

If we compare with the Catholic Fall : this one has two types of consequences

"physical ones" on Earth : shame of nudity, having to toil (Adam), pain in childbirth (Eve), being expelled from Paradise ;

metaphysical ones : if I sum it up : no one can be saved between the Fall and the death and resurrection of Jesus ; the "good people" of the Ancient Testament do not go to Paradise after death but to "the bosom of Abraham", where they remain until Jesus comes and delivers them from it after his death and before his resurrection. After Jesus' resurrection, individual salvation becomes possible but Men remain fallen and still bear the weight of the Original Sin (they need to be baptised in order to be "freed" of it).

The way Tolkien describes it here, it seems that the consequence of the Fall for Men is that their lifespan is shortened, and their órë is corrupted, unlike the Elves' (what about the Noldor, though ? It seems like corrupted órë to me, and the Sindar are also prey to Morgoth's lies in ME). But at no point is Eru's gift of mortality taken away.

So the way I understand it is that the Fall has physical consequences but not metaphysical ones ?

Also it seems that Arda marred affects Men more than Elves because in Men the body is dominant and not the fëa, and it's the other way round in Elves.

Arda marred has "bodily" consequences, but if I remember correctly Eru creates the fëa directly for each individual at conception/birth, and therefore they wouldn't be affected by the marring of Arda.

In which I puzzle over metaphysical implications as regards the peoples inhabiting Arda

fyi, a certain familiarity with the (predominantly Christian, I think) concept of fallenness/unfallenness is assumed, although it turns out that it doesn't necessarily work here. Feel free to ask for clarifications

So. I'm once again wracking my head as I try to make sense of what I shall call: 'metaphysical states' of elves, men and others, because the subject is emphasised and lampshaded a lot in the books, and I can't force it all to make sense when taken together.

Ainur are a specific case and I should really leave them aside for now. They certainly can fall — and, unlike angels, change their mind, apparently (which goes both ways) — although they do seem to be more all-or-nothing than everyone else. Still, I think as long as one doesn't go into the implications of time and what its existence or nonexistence changes, they're almost straightforward. But then you have:

Elves. The 'Fall of the Noldor' is very strongly emphasised as a metaphysical fall from grace and further evils, even ones unconnected with the matter of the Silmarils themselves, are blamed on it later (Maeglin!) So far so good. Except. Non-Noldor are also liable to behave in ways that are not exemplary in the slightest, and it doesn't seem to signify a cesura in the same way — and the Noldor in Valinor were able to commit acts that perhaps weren't as heinous as what we call crimes, but weren't good either. Getting into rancid fights with your brother isn't much in comparison, but these are not the actions of unfallen people.

And on the other hand, authorial quote (paraphrased): "Elves in some ways represent Man in an unfallen state". And I'm inclined to agree: they aren't subject to death (except they may be killed, so doesn't this already break down?), and there is something very poignant in the image of their artistry, "extempt from earthly limitations". But they do not lose it, not in any easily tangible way. We can argue that evil diminishes creativity and it's probably true, but there is no hard line anyone passes. And this is again lampshaded in-world with the Númenoreans ("If we die because of some darkness that lay on us before, than why don't the Noldor?").

Which brings us to Men. The existence of a direct cause-effect relationship between fallenness and mortality in Arda cannot be ascertained (Even taking into account a Catholic framework, I feel that logically it need not be the same relationship as the Biblical one since, in contrast with the Garden of Eden, the world was already marred when humans appeared). While I consider the Tale of Adanel to be Gondorian in origin, I can also see the possibility that whatever Men did back then, beyond memory (or in other words "we purposefully forgot") was just that much worse than Alqualondë and the Oath. In any case, Man is very straightforwardly Fallen.

Hobbits. The rules for Halflings are presumably the same as for Men, which is certainly notable, given that they seem to be the least inclined to evil of all incarnates. Not perfect, not by a long shot, but unknowing of wars and violence. A pastoral image, only in-world it's true.

And at the same time, my musings bring me to the unexpected conclusion that dwarves are the only notable "generally unfallen" kindred. Which is, in context of everything that regards them, weird — because by their actions, they are very similar to Men. And yet — either the circumstances of their creation make them disadvantaged from the start (which doesn't really make that much sense), or something happened off-screen, or it's the same case as Saeros, or Thingol sending Beren to his death.

Ents? I honestly don't know if we've seen enough of ents to judge, although they seem generally good-inclined? Huorns are a different kettle of fish.

Before I try to explain orcs, it would do well to know what they are exactly.

In other words, I cannot make sense of it all, enough that I've resorted to calling the default state of incarnates in Arda "semi-fallen" (or, as is, "semi-unfallen"). Which is not a thing that makes sense, philosophically speaking — but I can find no better way.

(Although, to be quite honest, the default state of being in Arda (because of the discord?) seems to be significantly different from the unfallen state of Man as described by religious thinkers in some ways, and not all of them regard merely such things as physical marring, so perhaps "semi" isn't the worst way to describe it.)

In any case, if someone has thoughts on the subject, I'm very open to hearing them.

[somniclysmic]

   I recall the Absylvan Forest’s beauty from inside the carriage that brought my sister and I to Caetuath, but it is another thing entirely to experience it on horseback, with the gentle breeze on the skin and the rustle of leaves and crunching of dirt just within reach of one’s arm.  With Fall upon us, the flowers have started hiding away and the leaves are not as green as Spring.

   We’ve run into a few Elven guards along the road, and each time Valian has sent them on their way under the guise of escorting Zenos and his men to the edge of the wood.  I suspect they will return to Caetuath to let the king and queen know I am with them and safe, if the trees have not already told them.

   Nature’s chatter has died down only a little, and trying to listen to conversation alongside the murmur of the trees and bushes and roots is difficult.  I have asked Valian to teach me how to turn this gift off and on, and… he seemed confused.  “It can be taught,” he said, “but usually Elves have to turn it on first.  It doesn’t just stay on all the time.”  The voices began whispering about something ancient, something older than the Sargorian Mountains and all the living things of Salva’sah, but they were not direct and I felt rather silly speaking out loud in a one-sided conversation.  I still feel silly, even while alone.

   It is admittedly… a bit frightening, being among such new company.  Valian and Zenos are my familiar anchors, but there is so much I do not know… so much I feel ignorant about.  I have stayed close to Valian to give Zenos space to… be himself.  But he stays close to me regardless.  Perhaps he does not care if his soldiers know about our alliance?  Perhaps it doesn’t matter now that I am officially traveling with them.  He urges me to join him when he rides ahead to scout out the path, and we always return to the soldiers lightly teasing Valian.  He looks like he takes it in stride and has yet to say anything to me about it…

   I must be doing it again.  Worrying too much.  I am free!  I am finally away from all the rules and the oppression and the expectations!  I can do whatever I want… right?

[sillylotrpolls]

(Notes after the poll)

In Arda, the world on which Middle-earth is a continent, the sun and moon are not natural phenomena. Rather, they are the very last fruit and flower respectively of the Two Trees, Laurelin and Telperion.

Quoting from Tolkien Gateway:

Laurelin was created by the Vala [gods] Yavanna and Nienna on the hill of Ezellohar [idk, just a hill] where she [the tree] shed their [the gods'] light on the realm of the Valar [gods] in the long years before the making of the Sun and Moon. Laurelin, the younger of the two [trees], flowered second and bloomed during the latter part of each Valian day. She was destroyed by Melkor [Sauron's boss], who used the giant spider spirit Ungoliant [Shelob's great-great grandmother] to his evil purpose during the theft of the Silmarils [shiny gems that caused a lot of problems], which caused the Darkening of Valinor [land of the gods]. Through the power of Nienna and Yavanna, though, Laurelin produced a single fiery fruit before she died. This golden fire was set in a vessel made by Aulë [another god] and his people, and steered into the sky by the Maia [demi-god] Arien, making the Sun.

These events took place quite some time before the world became round, which happened at the end of the Second Age. (Return of the King takes place during the end of the Third Age and the dawning of the Fourth Age.)

Meanwhile, here on Earth, winter solstice is the longest night of the year thanks to gravity.

Quoting from Wikipedia:

The winter solstice, also called the hibernal solstice, occurs when either of Earth's poles reaches its maximum tilt away from the Sun. This happens twice yearly, once in each hemisphere (Northern and Southern). For that hemisphere, the winter solstice is the day with the shortest period of daylight and longest night of the year, and when the Sun is at its lowest daily maximum elevation in the sky. Each polar region experiences continuous darkness or twilight around its winter solstice.

[eleneressea]

The difference between a star-day and a sun-day is only a few minutes, and that there's a difference at all is because of the earth's orbit around the sun. (The very, very short explanation is this: the earth orbits around the sun quickly enough that one day is actually 361 degrees of rotation around the axis, because the earth has moved a bit. The stars, however, are so so so distant that the orbit of the earth around the sun makes basically no difference.)

The difference between a star-year and a sun-year depends on the star in question (the farther the star is from the ecliptic, the apparent path of the sun through the sky, the more divergent the two years are; Sirius's distance from the ecliptic caused problems with relating the Sothic year to the solar year until they figured out leap years) but even so they're not that far off from each other, a few days at most, and given how long the elves live…the Sothic year drifted through the solar year on a 1461-year loop; the elves would probably just incorporate that into their new, shiny, combined calendar. You'd specify sun vs star vs combined years for anything that required that precision, but for most people there would be so little difference that it wouldn't matter that much.

The trees, however, are completely independent of any celestial-mechanics-based years.

"The fuck is this," say all the elves that didn't go to Valinor and a significant percentage of the ones who did.

I think that the Noldor and the Teleri (if maybe not the Vanyar) still kept track of the star-day and star-year even with the Trees, and so when the trees were destroyed, well, the astronomers still knew what day it was. I don't think anyone was still using Valian time after they got to Beleriand, they just all switched back to the older system.

…did the elves at Cuiviénen use sidereal time? it would make sense, given that they don't have any other celestial objects to track time with. and given how important stars are to the elves I think they should have sidereal time. I'm sure that they're very disconcerted when they get to Valinor that the cycle of the Trees and the cycle of the stars result in dramatically different day lengths. also, elf astronomers can have a little axial precession. as a treat.

wait, do Varda's stars even rise and set? Arda is flat at this point. but surely the proto-Noldor would want a calendar, they seem like the sorts of elves to want something like that. you can have calendars that aren't based on celestial bodies, but they're rare, and day length is, uh, pretty much always based on celestial bodies, yeah. and a calendar is just a fancy way to count days.

[jadekitty777]

On Your Six, Chapter 3

Day 3: Parenting for @taiqrowweek

Rating: T for this chapter, M for overall

Words: 5k

Summary: Qrow was what most of society would call a small-town criminal. But to those oppressed, he hoped only to be a healer. In an effort to make a change in the world, he moves from kingdom to kingdom, searching for branded omegas in need. His goal? To turn the derogatory words the reformatories forced them to bear on their skin into works of art.

Then one day, his past catches up to him in the form of Taiyang, his former best friend, with a brand of his own stained onto his skin and a plea for help in his eyes. Qrow has no choice but to answer, even if it means he’d have to face his mistakes once and for all.

[An ABO-style universe in a modern-day style Remnant. No Grimm, because people are the real monsters in this one]

Ao3 Link: On Your Mind

~

Early on in his career, Qrow had come to value the strength in listening.

He knew for every omega who walked through his door, he was a step in their healing process. It didn’t matter at what point in that process he was treading into; everyone came needing something. A sense of control. A desire to feel beautiful again. A need to shake off shame. No matter what it was, every reason was understandable and downright defensible.

But he knew his deed didn’t always end at the tip of a needle. Sometimes it wasn’t what was on their skin, but what was in their minds that weighed the most. Those were his talkers. The ones who felt so hurt or overcome by what had happened to them, they had to tell their story to someone.

So Qrow listened. He listened to the Mistrialian baker who tried to escape his abusive relationship by drugging his alpha one night and escaping into the night as the word Disloyal was overwrote. Erased Rebel as he was enraptured by the Rights Activist from Mantle who handed out self-funded newspapers all dedicated to lining out the inequalities among the dynamics. Nearly cried with the elderly Valian spinster who had been trafficked from her home in Vacuo decades ago to became the fourth wife of a rich proprietor as he made sure Owned could never be seen again.

Now today, he was turning the word SLUT into art as Tai recounted the love story that dared him to engage in one of society’s most taboo acts.

“So there I was, dragging my feet out of the ER at 2 AM, feeling like the worst parent in history as Yang bawls in my arms. I was so distressed, I couldn’t even remember where I’d parked and just started going through the rows.” They were sitting today. Tai cross-legged on his bed and staring out the window while Qrow sat behind him. “That’s when Summer called to me. She remembered I was one of the patients just going in as she got off her shift. She asked me what was going on and I told her how the doctor who’d seen us kicked me out for wasting his time over some diaper rash. And you know what she did?” A smile uplifted his tone. “She looked between me and Yang and said, ‘No parent spends five hours in the ER over nothing.’ Then she took my arm and led me back inside. Snapped at the staff to give her a room and saw to Yang herself. I couldn’t believe it. She’d just come off of a twelve-hour shift. She had to of been exhausted. But that was the kind of woman she was. When she saw someone who needed help, she put everything else aside to do it.”

A hiss breathed through the other’s teeth as Qrow lined over the base of the T, tailing the ends to look more like the trunk of a tree. “Were you right?” He prompted, hoping to distract him.

“Yeah. Yeast infection.” Tai puffed up proudly. “Nothing a bit of prescription cream and some TLC couldn’t fix, but it still felt so validating to be told my worries weren’t just in my head. It was the first time since Raven left that I felt I really could do this on my own.” That uplift was back, overlayed with fondness. “But, it was Summer who reminded me that just because I can, doesn’t mean I had to.”

He moved his pen higher, maple leaves beginning to bloom along his back. “How’d it happen?”

“Well, so, they called me in a few days after that night for a check-up. When I got there, I found out Summer had arranged things to make sure she was the doctor attending us. She had told me at the time it was just normal for her to touch base with anyone who came through ER that she had looked after. That it made her happy to see her patients doing well.” He barked out a laugh. “She was such a liar! She didn’t tell me this until later, but apparently the only reason she did it was because she thought I was cute and wanted to see me again.”

Tch, what a brat. Qrow scoffed, doggedly ignoring the had he been in her position, he absolutely would have done the same.

“We started talking and joking around. One thing led to another and suddenly she was asking me out for coffee! I was so shocked I almost fell out of my chair. But… I said yes. And, it was the best decision of my life.”

He couldn’t do this. He jerked back and turned off the pen before the shaking in his hand ruined his work. “Sorry. Hand’s cramping up. Can we take a break?”

Oblivious as ever, the omega gave him one of those stupidly bright smiles that he hated because it made his heart do weird things. “Sure.” As they slid off the bed and Tai took the opportunity to stretch, he asked, “How about tea?”

“Yeah, I’ll go put on the pot.” Qrow didn’t even get two steps before a hand clapped down on his shoulder.

“Nope. You’re resting.”

“But-”

“Relax. I got this.”

Then Tai wandered right into his kitchen like he owned the place, leaving him with no choice but to throw up his arms and take a seat. Qrow watched him go through the motions, turning to fill the kettle. From this distance, the word that had once been etched into his skin was completely unreadable, overtaken by a mismatch of new marks in various states of healing.

A perfect reflection of the man who bore them.

Regret dropped like a stone in his stomach, feeling sick as the omega took care of him over a lie. He lowered his head and took his punishment in the form of a simple question, “So when did you two get serious?”

“Hm? Oh, you mean Sums and I?”

“No, I meant you and me.” Qrow snarked, because he hated himself.

Tai set the pot on the stove, the burner sparking to life. “I knew we had a forever connection the day you offered to eat all the yellow Starburst from the bag and leave all the good flavors for me.”

Well now he was resentful and insulted. “Yellow is the good flavor.”

“Mmhmm, keep telling yourself that.” He started tearing open a pair of tea packets, dropping one each in the mugs. “Anyways, promise not to judge me too much?”

“For what, your love life or your weird issues with Starburst?”

“Qrow!”

He held up hand as a peace offering, leaning back. “Okay, okay. I promise.”

Tai eyed him suspiciously for several seconds before finally saying, “We bonded four months in.”

“FOU-” He cut himself off and took a breath. He seemed to have to do this a lot more lately. “I mean, that’s not so bad.”

“Good save.” Sarcasm dripped from his tone. “Look, I thought I was going too fast too. But when I would sit down and think of my future, I just could see her in it. Summer was a piece of me I didn’t even know I was missing. And when I found out she felt the same about me we decided, fuck it! Who cares about what everyone else is going to say? We knew we wanted each other.”

On display as he was, Qrow’s gaze fell to the spot on Tai’s neck where the two scars lay. The imperfect ovals were layered atop one another right in the juncture of his shoulder and collarbone, cutting through his scent gland. Similar to a snake’s fangs, alpha incisors had a hollow part, allowing them to release a bit of their musk during the bite which would then inject itself into an omega’s glands and permanently alter their scent.

Staking a claim.

Granted, with the tattoo he couldn’t smell even a hint of either Raven or Summer any longer. But back then, he could imagine how pungent it had been. Even if the new smell wasn’t a dead giveaway, the pinker shade of the fresher one was a big neon sign that drew the eye. There wouldn’t be any hiding it, even if the couple had tried.

Which meant they absolutely became the gossip of every corner on the street. Summer being well off and Tai being abandoned and annulled didn’t help matters in the slightest. He already knew what people would have thought, well before the brand was ever made.

He frowned. “Even knowing you’d get the worst of it?”

“Tch. Tell me something else that’s new.” Tai snipped, rolling his eyes. “You know, I could have been a perfect little omega. Quiet. Thoughtless. Unopinionated. Or I could have also spent the rest of my life as a part of the Single’s Forever Club. Risen Yang alone and never looked at another Alpha again. And you know what? People would still have shit to say about me. That’s what happens when society’s rigged against you.” He smacked his hand down on the counter. “When does my happiness matter?”

That stone still in his stomach was only getting heavier. “Sorry.”

The fire burnt out as quickly as it was there, and Tai only shook his head, mumbling, “Forget it. It’s whatever right?”

“It’s not. It’s fucking wrong.” He said with more fury than he meant to.

Tai’s smile was tired and defeated. “If only more people thought like you.”

The kettle whistle blew, effectively ending their conversation. It wasn’t long before Tai was taking his seat across from him, their mugs steaming on the table before them. Idly, Qrow traced the rim of his with his index finger, trying to think of something to say.

His focus shifted when a hand was suddenly being held out before him, clearly asking for something. “Uh?”

“Give me your hand.” Tai demanded.

His brain moved sluggishly, but when he understood what the other was offering, his face went redder than his eyes. “I, uh, need to drink my tea?”

“You’ve got a left one for that. Come on already.”

“It’s fine. It’s not that-” Any argument he had slipped away when he tried pulling his hand further away, only for the omega to reach over and snag it.

The simple touch was like electricity zinging through his muscles, leaving him helpless to resist as Tai laid his arm across the table. “You’re such a big baby.” He teased as he rolled up the cuff of Qrow’s shirt, pressing the pads of his fingers along the length of his forearm.

When the massage started, Qrow absolutely melted. While he hadn’t been entirely honest, it would still be true to say that he was probably working his way into an early case of carpal tunnel with how much tension built from his shoulder down to his wrist during his work. He sighed, slumping over the table as the other made his way up past his elbow. “I hate you.” He mumbled, face pillowed in his other arm.

“Yeah, I’m the worst.” Tai replied cheerily.

Gods, if only that were true, then maybe he wouldn’t love him as much as he did.

~

“I wish you could have met her.” Tai told him a little after sundown.

Qrow hummed questioningly, not pulling his eyes up from the midribs he was painstakingly adding onto every leaf. He felt like he was performing some sort of a balancing act, sitting on the edge of the recliner so he was close enough to draw while also trying to keep out of the beam of his scroll light pointed at them from his nightstand, since the weak 40 watt overhead just wasn’t bright enough to work with. There was a reason he never tattooed after dark.

“Summer.” Tai clarified, reminding him exactly why they were an hour behind. “You woulda liked her.”

He almost laughed at how inane that statement was. “Doubt that.”

“Really! She was sweet and a little shy. A bit of a rebel too. And I mean, she moved to Vale ‘cause she knew she could help more people in need for cheaper than the high end hospitals she could have worked in would charge.” He glanced over his shoulder as Qrow re-inked. “You gotta let that Atlesian stigma go, man.”

There really was no good way to answer that, so he didn’t bother trying. Gods only knew what Tai would have thought of him, if he found out the real reason they never would of gotten along was because Qrow didn’t believe he’d be able to resist his instincts a second time around. The ones that screamed at him to show Tai he was the more worthwhile mate, even if that meant delving things into a fistfight.

“I guess it doesn’t matter now.” The omega said when he caught on that he wasn’t going to get a response. “At least you’ll have a chance to meet Ruby. I warn you though, you’re totally going to fall in love. She’s got so much energy to her, like you wouldn’t believe. She giggles so much too, it’s the cutest little sound. And-! And…”

Pausing, Qrow flipped off the pen. “Tai?”

“S-Sorry.” He rubbed a hand over his face, clearing his throat loudly. “It just, hurts. Not knowing how they’re doing.” His voice broke. “I miss them.”

Not sure what else to do, he silently pressed his forehead against the base of Tai’s neck, mindful of his back as he wound an arm across his middle in a loose hug.

Knew, without a doubt, that it wasn’t nearly enough.

~

A year ago, when Qrow was working outside of Mantle for a spell, a client he’d never forget walked through his door. He was unusually broad-shouldered and buff, just like Tai. Yet, it wasn’t his physical attributes that truly made him stand out. It was the omega’s confidence.  He had a stride to him that exuded self-assurance and a stance that yielded pride.

It threw him completely off his game, as he was used to playing the role of consoler. Yet, as the omega held out his hand to shake, Qrow found himself wanting to compete against him. “You’re Harbinger. It’s a pleasure. I’ve heard a lot.”

“Only good things, I hope.” He replied, his grip firm and unyielding. “And you are?”

“Clover Ebi.” That name rang a bell, but he couldn’t place why. “And they were. You did a rebrand for a buddy of mine who lives over in the orange district. I was hoping you could do the same for mine.”

That brought some air to his sails as he found himself on more comfortable ground. “Yeah, ‘course I can. Why don’t you take a seat and I can get a gander at what I’m working with?”

“That’s the thing…” For the first time since he walked in, some of that boldness faltered. “If I show you, I need you to promise me not to freak out.”

Well, now he was really intrigued. “Come on. It can’t be that bad. Wait – it’s not on like, your ass cheek or something right?”

“You’re as crude as Robyn warned me you’d be.”

Qrow perked up at the name, remembering her as the outspoken journalist he’d looked after during his first stint in Mantle.

Clover placed a hand over his left bicep. “No, no, it’s nothing like that. It’s under this.”

“Okay then, what’s the proble- Oh, shit.”

His heart rate jumped from resting to cardiac arrest in record time at the sight of the brand – not a harsh word like so many others had been forced to bear, but a simple, cursive script of the man’s own last name. The mark of someone who was in service of the Atlas military.

Which meant he was probably being set up right now.

“Fuck!” Qrow stumbled backwards, looking around wildly for a weapon. An exit. Anything.

“Hey, it’s okay!” Clover followed after him, albeit at a slower pace. “Come on, you said you wouldn’t freak out.”

He picked up an umbrella, holding it en garde like his sister used to with her katana. “We’re way past that, buddy. So, what is this? A trap? Are a bunch more of you about to bust through my wall to take me in?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Will you just – put the umbrella down!”

He came within striking distance – so Qrow struck. A fast swipe at his face.

Clover didn’t even look as his hand shot up to catch it. With strength he wasn’t even trying to hide, he yanked the makeshift weapon right out of Qrow’s grip and tossed it over his shoulder. He caught the fist that came next, boxing him into the corner so that he didn’t have room to move. It was an oddly uncomfortable feeling, being pinned down and powerless.

But while the hold was solid it wasn’t tight, nor was Clover’s face aggressive. “Can you calm down, please? I didn’t come here to turn you in. I came here because I want your help.”

“Why?” He barked back. “You chose to take that mark. Feeling regretful now soldier boy?”

The omega’s expression shifted darkly. “The only thing I chose was to fight for my kingdom, because I believe in protecting the people. This mark is something I have to bear, if I want to pursue that goal.”

His hands slid off, giving Qrow some breathing space. As he stared at the other, suddenly it came to him. “Wait. Ebi. I knew I recognized your name. You made headlines recently. You’re the captain of Tin Jimmy’s specialty squad.”

It had been a huge sensation, an omega taking a leadership position like that. It was practically unheard of and people talked it up like it was a sign of the ‘changing times.’ But he had brushed it off as another one of the kingdom’s typical publicity stunts. They always had something or the other going on to turn the people’s heads – because if everyone was looking at Atlas, no one would see anything else.

“I don’t get it. Why?” His brow furrowed, trying to make sense of it.

“Because I represent something larger than just a captain of a team. I represent hope. The worst thing for us is when no one’s talking. And I sure got them talking.”

That made sense. Nothing changed if no one was having the conversation. Still… “Rebranding could get you decommissioned. Negative PR be damned.”

“Well, as they say: Sometimes you got to risk it all for a dream.” Clover said with a quirk of his lips. “So, will you help me?”

It was one of the most needlessly reckless decisions he had ever made, but he did. In two, relatively short sessions, they were done. He slept with one eye open every day in-between, but when they finished and Clover was instead urging him to keep his contact info (“Just in case you ever get in trouble.”), Qrow felt oddly at ease. Like maybe he truly did make a friend in all this.

He never questioned why the case never hit the news – but if he left Mantle a little quicker than normal, well, that was his business.

Now, as he hit dial on that old contact, he could only pray Clover at least was going to keep this part of his word.

He picked up after the second ring. “Hello?”

“Hey soldier boy.” Qrow started, trying to sound casual. “It’s Harbinger.”

A beat. Then, “Oh. Oh! Uh, two seconds okay?” There was a muffled bit of a noise and a faint, “I’ll be right back. Gotta take this.” A bit more shuffling and background noise as Qrow assumed he left the room, then Clover’s voice was back in his ear, surprisingly frantic. “What’s going on? Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Sorry, it’s not an emergency call.” He replied.

The omega let out a sigh of relief. It felt oddly nice to be worried about. “Oh thank Gods. So then, what’s up?”

“I was hoping you might be able to help me with something.” Qrow said, unconsciously pacing around his box-in-the-wall apartment. “Might be a longshot but, you got any connection with OPS?”

The OPS, or Omega Protection Services, were a kingdom-to-kingdom association that talked big about how they were dedicated to the proper care of the omega brethren in need. While in some veins of their work that was true, like funding lobbies for better rights in the system or providing financial support to those in trouble, it was equally true that under the table the organizations were fed big money from the reformatories to turn over a revolving door of clientele.

The biggest contributor of which was the Crisis Department. It was no secret that a death of a bond mate was devastating to an omega and there was a small percentage of those who became non-functional after the loss. Therefore, any omega known to have recently lost their mate was visited by an OPS agent. If the agent found the omega to be in such an extreme state, it was customary that the widow would be sent away for rehabilitation and any children would be rehomed either with known family or into a foster family until the parent was well enough to care for them again.

The key words being a small percentage. However, according to statistics, almost a quarter of all widowed omegas were in need of ‘reformation’. A percentage that went up or down depending on what kingdom was involved. Vale, their home country, was the only one underperforming on those numbers. By all accounts, Tai never should have gone to a reformatory at all.

The issue was the OPS agent assigned to the omega was from their alpha’s home kingdom. Which meant the agent that knocked on Tai’s door was from Atlas, the kingdom boosting the highest reformatory count by almost double any other one. They also had one of the strictest policies on how they rehomed children. Rather than even consider familial connections, they fostered all of them, claiming it would provide a more stable environment without the potential of an omega in probation from seeking them out and ‘influencing’ their young one’s minds before they were fully well.

All this to say it was almost impossible to know where Tai’s kids were unless he could talk to someone on the inside.

“I know someone who works out of there.” Clover said, before prying almost teasingly. “Why? Who are you looking for?”

Qrow realized too late that he probably should have expected this. “Don’t get any ideas!” He squawked. “I’m… trying to get some info on my niece. Nieces, actually. Just wanting to make sure they’re doing alright.”

“Oh.” Just like that, Clover was all business again. “Yeah, I can swing that. Just gonna need their names and ages, but it shouldn’t be too hard to find them. The names of their sires helps too.”

A sense of relief spread through him. “Yeah I can get that to you. I’ll message it.”

“Perfect! Should have something for you in a few days, okay?”

“Thank you Clover.”

“Anytime.”

It was only after the call ended and he’d written out the requested information, that it hit Qrow.

If he disclosed all this, it really wouldn’t be much further of a stretch for Clover to locate his own information alongside it. All these years on the lam potentially wasted in one single text message.

He flopped onto his bed with a groan, mussing a hand through his hair as the weight of the decision nettled him. Yet, as his thumb moved over to erase everything, his gaze unconsciously fell to his nightstand, where the pages of Tai’s designs were still resting. Thought of all the pain his friend still had to go to finish them, coupled with all he bore before this. Wouldn’t just a day of solace be worth it?

His thumb moved back up.

Sometimes you just had to risk it all, right?

Qrow hit send.

~

Tai smelt his anxiety the moment he walked through the door.

“Everything alright?” He asked, looking about the room as if he expected to find a portion of it on fire.

“Yeah, yeah.” Qrow assured, doing a very bad job of actually appearing alright as he fidgeted with his necklace. “I just have something I wanted to show you. Come here.”

“O…kay?”

Tai followed him over to his bed, sitting down beside him. It was more comfortable than the stiff plastic of the mismatched dining chairs at least, but now Qrow was also realizing it was painfully intimate. As he sat there, fighting the urge to just shove his scroll into the other hands, he realized maybe he should have planned this better. “So, I know this guy from Atlas, right? Someone on the higher end who has a lot of connections. And well, I asked if he might be able to check in on your daughters.”

“What?!” The omega gripped onto his arm, a sort of manic desperation dancing in his eyes. “Qrow, are you serious?”

He nodded, plucking his scroll off the nightstand and swiping over to his photo album. “Yeah and he was able to get me this from their file.” He handed the device over, seeing the way Tai eyes went wide. The photo was reportedly back from January, taken on some sort of outing the family had been on. The two girls were sitting in a sandbox, Yang pushing sand into a yellow bucket with her hands while Ruby watched her, biting on the end of the shovel that her sister probably should have been using.

“They’re with a beta family. An older couple whose kids have already left the house.” Qrow rambled as his friend just continued to stare at his children. “It’s a real nice place. Both the girls have their own rooms and there’s a backyard for them and everything. And the expense reports are showing their getting a nice, balanced diet and toys and even some learning, uh, things. Books and flashcards and all that fancy shit. And, well, uh – T-Tai?”

Tears dripped from the man’s chin, hitting the display of the scroll. “Yang’s in pigtails.”

“What?”

Tai lifted his head, eyes swimming. “I couldn’t get her to let me brush her hair most days, let alone put it in pigtails.”

“Tai…”

The omega brought the device to his chest, as if it was a suitable replacement for the children he’d rather hug. “And look at how big Ruby is now. She’s sitting up all on her own now. Probably walking.” He sobbed, a wretched, terrible noise that burst from something aching to his very core. “What else have I missed? Ruby has to be talking now. I didn’t even get to hear her first word. And Yang’s old enough to be in kindergarten – I should have been there to take her to her first day. But I wasn’t! I wasn’t there for any of it!”

Something in Qrow’s own heart shattered listening to the father’s anguish and he surged forward, gathering Tai up. Pulled him into a tight embrace as if it could protect him from all the hurt he had to bear.

“It’s not fair.” Tai cried into his shoulder. “It was awful enough, losing Summer. But then those OPS bastards came into my house, took one look at my marks and said I was unfit to raise my own kids! I felt so humiliated.” He clenched onto fistfuls of Qrow’s shirt, shaking hard enough he might just fall apart. “It’ll be almost two years by the time they give them back to me. They took those years away from me and I’m never getting them back!” He heaved over another sob. “What if they don’t even remember me Qrow?”

He ran his fingers soothingly through the other’s hair. “No one could forget you Tai. Not with that big, stupid, sunny smile a’yours. Those girls’ll take one look at it and go ‘there’s daddy!’. I just know it.”

It earned him a watery laugh that only delved into more tears. If he could have, Qrow would have torn up all of Atlas to find those pups and bring them back to Tai right then and there. As it was, there was little else he could do but hold him through it.

When the cries eventually turned to sniffles, Tai pulled away to wipe at his face. He looked a mess, eyes bloodshot and blotchy and red. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to lose it on you like that.”

“Think I should be the one saying sorry.” He cast a guilty glance to his scroll, which had fallen onto the bed at some point. “I just thought – I don’t know what I thought. Maybe I wasn’t.”

“Oh, no! Qrow.” Tai pat his knee reassuringly. “I can’t even begin to tell you how much it means to me to see them. To know you did all this for me.” He cast his gaze away, sighing. “It’s just, some days I feel like I’m drowning. There’s not a day that goes by I don’t think of my girls. Worry about them. But if I’m too emotional, suddenly I’m ‘too unstable’. So, I’ve been trying so hard to hold it together.”

Qrow’s jaw clenched. Becoming a professional arsonist was sounding better and better every day. “You don’t have to, not with me.”

“Heh. Even if I cry every day?”

“Cry every hour, if you need to.” He made an aborted gesture towards Tai’s hand. Touched his forearm instead. “Whatever you need, I’m here for you. Alright?”

Tai had no such inhibitions, his other hand laying down over Qrow’s, squeezing gently. “Thank you. I know I haven’t said it nearly enough, but I really do appreciate everything you’ve done. I don’t know how I would have gotten through these past few weeks without you.”

“You would have.” He said, doubtless. Tai was strong inside and out. He’d always admired that about him. “But, I’m glad I can help.”

Anything was worth bringing that smile to his face.

As if on cue, one stretched across Tai’s lips as he said, “I’ll pay you back one day, promise.”

One day, maybe Qrow would tell him he already had.

[arofili]

how old is gandalf actually? my understanding is that by the late third age he would be like about 50k years old right? my silmarillion knowledge is unfortunately rusty/incomplete so im curious to hear if u have any more thoughts.. thx!

[I got all the information in this post from Tolkien Gateway’s timeline; they got it from HoME’s “Annals of Aman,” “Grey Annals” aka the Annals of Beleriand, and the LOTR Appendecies. Take this all with a grain of salt; I am not an expert.]

So we don’t know exactly - mostly because Gandalf, like all other Ainur, was created by Eru before Time was really a thing. The Ainur were created before the Music, and were alive for an indeterminable period of time between their creation and the Music. Then the Music came around, the Ainur sung Ea and Arda into existence, and things other than the Ainur and Eru came into existence.

The next thing we know for sure that happened is the First War of Arda, where Melkor came to Arda and said “this is mine!” and then Manwe and the other Valar showed up and were like “actually, no” and then they fought over it. To me it seems that there must have been some time between the Music and the War, but again, we don’t know how long.

The First War begins the Years of the Lamps, which last in total for 3500 Valian Years, or approximately 33,537 Years of the Sun, by the calculation that 1 Valian Year is a little less than 10 Sun Years (9.582 Sun Years, according to Tolkien Gateway’s calculation).

After that begin the Years of the Trees, which last for 1500 Valian Years, or 14,373 Years of the Sun, making a total of 5000 Valian Years, or 47,910 Years of the Sun.

Then we actually get to the Years of the Sun! The Sun is now a thing, and we can stop worrying about Valian Years, hooray!

The First Age of the Sun is 590 years long and takes us through the end of the Quenta Silmarillion and the War of Wrath. The Second Age lasts for 3,441 years and ends with the defeat of Sauron in the War of the Last Alliance. The Third Age lasts for 3,021 years and ends with the last of the Ringbearers (save Sam) sailing for Valinor, aka the end of The Lord of the Rings.

All told, the Years of the Sun through the end of the Third Age are 7,052. Adding that to our previous total of 47,910, we get a total of 54,962 Sun Years since time began to be counted.

This is all a very long-winded way to say: Yes, you’re about right! Gandalf, and by extension all the other Ainur, have existed for roughly 50,000 years, since years became a thing. However the Ainur are technically much older than that since they existed for an indeterminable length before anyone began keeping track of time as well as before time was even A Thing.

So. At the end of LOTR, Gandalf is 54,962 years + the equivalent of ?????????? unimaginable units of measurement before then. (At the time of Bilbo’s 111th birthday party he was 54,945 + all that.)

This is why I just say that the Ainur are “Age Infinity” when I’m making  r/relationship or r/AITA meme posts like the one that sparked this ask!

ETA: I also take issue with labeling Gandalf as male. Tolkien may have said that the Ainur have an innate gender (he calls it “difference of temper” in Ainulindale) but I’m calling bullshit on that. (Especially since he said that specifically about the Valar, not the Maiar...) Gandalf is male-presenting, taking on the shape of an old man, but since he’s literally Older Than Time I think it’s reasonable to say he’s older than any concept of gender, too.

ETA 2: corrected version of the tweet in question

ETA 3: a good point has been raised about the age of Gandalf vs. the age of Olorin!

[adozentothedawn]

Blood Moss, Huona Mahe, Ink Harp, Maoro Coral, Ratiti Root?

This was fun but hard. But it gave me an excuse to start up Deadfire again and since I'm already here I'll just play Bridge Ablaze again. 😋

Blood Moss: Did your Watcher cope with the loss of Caed Nua? How has this changed them as a person, if at all?

Caed Nua’s destruction was a really hard blow for Favaen, especially since it was Eothas who destroyed it. Caed Nua was supposed to be a safe haven for everyone and especially for Eothasians, so that hit her very hard. That’s the breach of trust that Favaen really grapples with when it comes to Eothas.

Huona Mahe: What was your Watcher’s preferred party line-up? Did they favor any sidekicks to the main companions? In the same breadth, any particular romances (canon or no)?

Edér and Aloth are definitely always there, they wouldn’t leave her to stroll through the Deadfire alone. Pallegina usually stays to make sure nobody sinks the ship in the meantime. Aside from that it it’s always different who comes. As for side kicks, Favaen finds Rekke and his religion very intersting, Vatnir basically got forcefully adopted and will be forced to be happy. Fassina saw the absolute chaos going on in their group and made herself the matriarch (read babysitter) to make sure nobody did anything too stupid. Konstanten is nice enough, though a bit confused, and Favaen has definitely made use of his skills. Ydwin is strange and Favaen doesn’t really approve of her decisions, but she’s reliable and doesn’t harm anyone else, so that’s fine. I don’t think Favaen picked up Mirke, simply because I don’t know anything about her. Mirke feels like and unfinished character since she basically doesn’t interact with anyone.

Ink Harp: The Huana, Royal Deadfire Company, the Valians, or the Principi?

The Huana, begrudgingly. They’re right, but Favaen does not at all like the queen’s way of solving it. Honestly I’m not yet sure wether she actually does it or if I’ll change canon a bit. In my current mind she at least has a very long talk with Maia about it, cnvinces her and makes her help her get everyone out of the tower before she blows it up at least. Not sure if that’s were I’ll stick though. (The companion’s just fucking off without any chance to talk them out of it if you have a good relationship is dumb and I don’t like it.)

Maoro Coral: As you sail the Deadfire there happen to be a few uncharted islands. What did your Watcher name them if at all?

(For this question I went back onto the PS4 and cruised around a bit because I really remembered nothing)

Honestly most names I gave the islands were meta jokes and had nothing to do with Favaen. But the island with the hanging tree I named Gilded Vale, and yeah that was probably Favaen. She would do that. Revenge isn't her style, but nothing in the scriptures says you aren't allowed to name things in spite.

Ratiti Root: Did any consequences/decisions from game one come back to haunt your Watcher? Would they have done anything differently?

Not really I’d say, unless you count not noticing her own god in the basement. That’s certainly weighing heavy on her mind. After having more contact Berath she is however even more confused about what the hell happened with Readric. 

[whump-in-the-closet]

11. Negotiation is Not Your Strong Suit

previous.

cw: blood mention, injury mention, inhuman whumpers, knife mention

Your hands are shaking as you step out from behind the tree, palms outward. You drop your knife, and it lands on the grass with a soft thud. 

“Can we not discuss this in a civilised manner?” 

Two of the Council’s agents shift forward, their cloaks dragging behind them. One stays behind, watching you with empty eyes. She keeps a hand resting on Valian’s head. 

Valian. 

They keep their eyes on the ground, but even from this distance you can see that their breathing is far too fast and far too ragged. You think they’ve been crying, but it's hard to tell. 

You’re far more concerned with your own fate. 

One of the agents– she has white hair like a cloud and lightning in her eyes– picks up your knife, testing the blade against one of her fingers. Not a single drop of blood appears though she stabs it deep. She smiles. “I think it’s very uncivilised of you to invite yourself here.” 

Her companion nods. “Very unhealthy.” She begins to circle you and you’re left with the distinctly uncomfortable impression of a hawk circling a small forest creature. Your skin crawls at the thought. 

“I– I hope we can come to some agreement. I did not mean to interfere.” 

Valian muffles a sob. 

“Did you not come to rescue them?” The agent with lightening eyes gestures to Valian. 

You frantically shake your head, a lie on your lips. But as you do so, you catch another glimpse of Valian. 

They’ve been pulled to their feet. The Council’s agent now has two hands on them– one still on their head and the other gripping the back of their shirt collar. They look like they can hardly stand, crimson blood rolling down their arms and dripping onto the grass. Their eyes are red and puffy but they’re shaking their head at you. 

“Did you not come for your friend?” the agent repeats. The words bite at you, and you flinch back, bumping into another agent. She looks down at you, tilting her head to the side.  “Answer us.” Her voice echoes in a way that is so far removed from anything human that you’re left shaken.

taglist: @kira-the-whump-enthusiast, @d-cs, @annablogsposts, @sorrowful-hyacinth, @whumpsday, @whumpinthepot, @whatwhumpcomments (lmk if you want to be added/removed!)

[eccentricmya]

Maedhros & Fingolfin - Ages

Fëanor was born in 1169th Year of the Trees. Assuming the maturity age of elves to be given as 100 Sun Years, and one Valian Year or yén to be about 10 of the sun years, then we get an adult Fëanor at 1179 YT. It's said that he married young - enough to be remarked upon - so let's say his wedding to Nerdanel was in 1178 - when he had not yet come of age.

Finwë himself remarried in 1185 YT. And Fingolfin was born in 1190. But it was Findis who was Finwë and Indis' first child, so that means she was born between 1185 and 1190. So I think her to be born in 1186 YT.

We don't see much of Fëanor's attitude towards Indis in canon, but in a culture where there exist re-embodiment and monogamy, it must have hurt to see another take the place of his beloved albeit absent mother. So, Findis is born and someone comments that there's another heir in the royal line and Fëanor is not amused. Later, much later, he himself would champion Findis' claim over that of Fingolfin to be next after his line, but not then. Then he is miffed and aware of what having half-siblings would mean. Fëanor thus moves to pre-empt any doubts about the line of succession and plans a child before a brother could be born and named Nelyafinwë. Therefore, Maedhros is born the very next yén, in 1187 YT, and indisputably the third of Finwë. Nelyafinwë.

Now, hang on before you invoke the "eldest of the house of Finwë here" line that Maedhros says to Fingolfin before foisting off the crown on the latter. I know the difference between 'eldest' (for persons) and 'oldest' (for persons and things), but the word 'elder' is used to denote seniority of rank sometimes. So let me appropriate canon and claim that Maedhros actually meant eldest in generational rank. For a race of immortal elves who woke up at Cuiviénen, I think degree of removal from the first-generation elves (whom I call the 'Woke Elves' - pun intended) will be important. So Fingolfin being the son of High King Finwë, rather than the grandson - and so further removed - that is Maedhros, he can claim a higher rank. Thus the 'eldest' tag given to Fingolfin. But Maedhros is still the oldest (and hence the proviso/qualifying line: "and not the least wise" as said to Fingolfin).

Just imagine the implications now. Maedhros is closer in age to his father than he is to most of his brothers - being not even 20 yéni apart. And Findis and Fingolfin are born within few yéni of their own nephew. Maedhros is more of an elder brother to Fingolfin than Fëanor ever is. Indis is like a second mother to Maedhros rather than a grandmother. Even Finwë he sees more as a father because Fëanor is young and a better friend/brother to Maedhros than a father. Nerdanel, who's actually older than Fëanor - both in age and generation, is the authority in their house and the responsible adult. So Maedhros grows up solely as his mother's son and hence is the most reasonable of all the Fëanorions. By the time Maglor is born, Fëanor has wised up a bit and so, it's Maglor who's his first true experience at parenting. But Maedhros is still the one closest to their father, as Fëanor sees in him the true brother he does not have in Fingolfin. This obviously leads to jealousy whenever Fingolfin and Maedhros hang out.

Meanwhile, Findis is adored by everyone. Even Fëanor, who has mellowed out a bit after having secured his line and favours her just to spite Fingolfin. (Fingolfin who is the spitting image of Finwë while Fëanor takes after his mother more. The mother that his father actually replaced - would he do the same with Fëanor?) Findis herself prefers the company of Nerdanel. Her own mother is nice and proper, but Mahtaniel is more fascinating. And so, Findis and Maedhros grow up together, with Maedhros considering her the sister he does not will not have. This leads to Findis being closer to the Fëanorians (and would've followed them to Arda too, if Nerdanel hadn't asked her to stay).

And when a dead Fëanor will learn that Finarfin has titled himself High King in Aman, he will curse up a storm because Findis stayed (the traitor!) and the crown should've been hers by right! And also because Fëanor did not propagate women's rights so loudly and vehemently if one of his half-brother was going to be king anyway.

Don't ask what he did when Maedhros handed over his own Kingship to Fingolfin. Because the tale has been banned by Mandos. "Not even the echo of your lamentation" indeed!